Closure
by star-angel
Summary: Phase One Coda/missing scene - The day after Vaughn breaks up with her, Alice pays a visit to his apartment to pick up her toothbrush. Instead, she discovers the reason Vaughn broke up with her standing in the middle of the living room. semi-humorous, se
1. Part 1

title: Closure  
author: Star Angel (aka: me)  
disclaimer: yadda yadda yadda, not mine, alice's personality is of my own creation (cuz we know how lacking alias was in that department) i just wanted them to come out and play. JJ can have them back just as soon as i'm done   
  
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You don't really know what you're doing there.  
  
Well, of course you know. You still have some stuff there. A pair of socks, a few pictures, your spare toothbrush and other such knickknacks that you wouldn't have remembered ordinarily but you can't stand the thought of them lost and forgotten somewhere in a corner of his storage room, gathering dust. You can't stand the idea of becoming a faded memory.   
  
Better to have never existed at all.  
  
You could call. You should call. Just pick up the phone and ask when it would be convenient to come pick up your things…or even have them sent to you…a lot more convenient.  
  
But you don't trust that you won't burst into tears over the phone.  
  
You love him. The big idiot, you still love him.   
  
So, instead of acting like a rational adult, you're staked out in front of your ex-boyfriend's house at 7:00 in the morning (because he _always_ goes in early) waiting for him to go to work so that you can use the spare key he had forgotten he had given you (it's not like you'd needed to use it for a few weeks now) to enter his apartment and take back all of your stuff without having to be in his presence (because goddammit! Haven't you been through enough lately !?! And doesn't that give you the right to act a bit loopy and avoid confrontation !?!)  
  
You hold on to this bit of illogic as you wait…see him speed out of the house, coffee thermos and toast in hand. You latch onto this pseudo-reasoning for courage as you watch his car turn the corner at the end of the street. You glance at the clock on your dashboard, stare for a moment, resist the urge to do a double-take because this is not a television show and there will be no laugh-track to validate the silliness of the move…it's 7:43…for the first time for as long as you've known him he's going to be on time for work. You imagine the devil must be building a snowman right about now.  
  
You take a breath…you take another breath…you marvel at how white your knuckles are getting as your hands grip the steering wheel…you watch the time pass…7:44…7:45…  
  
The next thing you know, you're out on the street, walking to the front entrance of his building. You suddenly remember that you need oxygen to live and exhale.  
  
The doorman recognizes you and smiles. You bare your teeth, hope it's enough and wait for the elevator.  
  
There's the familiar ping as the doors slide open, revealing a cheerful Mrs. Baxter.  
  
"Why hello dear!"  
  
You step into the car and stand next to the older woman. You fidget. Mrs. Baxter usually reminds you of the comforts of your grandmother's kitchen but you wouldn't be more uncomfortable right now if the kindly neighbour suddenly stripped down to her birthday suit and started doing the Macarena.  
  
"Why I haven't seen you around here for some time child! Mr. Baxter has been asking you, y'know? 'Where is that lovely girl that Michael was seeing? He was so head over heels for her. Such a nice young lady.' Remember how you used to come around and play chess on Sundays dear? Oh! Sunday afternoon chess is one of Harold's favourite things to do but you haven't dropped by for weeks now!"  
  
"I've been busy…"  
  
"Of course you have! A fine young woman like you. Working in Real Estate no less. Good for you dear! These days, a woman can't depend on a man to support her! You stand on your own two feet…But oh! Michael is certainly a catch dear. We're so happy for the two of you!… Between you and me though, I'm glad those women with the hairy armpits aren't around anymore…You do shave your armpits don't you dear?"  
  
"Um…"  
  
Ping!  
  
"Goodbye Mrs. Baxter!"   
  
"Goodbye de-" Her voice is cut-off by the closing doors and you sigh in relief. You never realized how slowly elevators moved.   
  
You make your way slowly down the familiar hallway leading to his apartment. A path you've taken a million times before in the past few years. Only recently had it become alien to you, made you feel like an intruder, even when you were seeing him.   
  
Officially, that ended two days ago. Unofficially…  
  
You'd rather not think about how screwed up the best relationship of your life had gotten and how blind you were that the man you loved stopped loving you long ago.  
  
You're finally there, in front of his door, key in hand, poised, ready to enter.   
  
You have a choice, you know that. You could be mature and run back to the elevator, into your car, back home and try to forget him. Buy another toothbrush, fold your socks from the laundry, reorganize your photo albums (and throw out your newly created headless Vaughn collection)  
  
But you need closure and even though you spent the entire night breaking up, you need to completely extricate yourself from his life. So, you take a deep breath and insert the key into the lock.   
  
The first thing that assaults you is the smell. Everything smells like him, the walls, the air, the furniture…smell is supposedly the best memory-enhancing agent and you never believed it until now as you get flashes of his arms around you as you fell asleep, burying your face into his neck as you sat on the couch and watched some old movie, waking up to an empty bed but a romantic note, enveloped in his sheets…  
  
You blink back tears…you're tired of crying. It feels like you've been crying your entire life. But you never expected him of all people to be the cause of your tears.   
  
You stroll through the apartment, hugging your purse strap close to your body, shrinking away from it all but unable to leave. You were going to get married, have three beautiful children with your hair and his eyes, move to the suburbs, buy a minivan…you had discussed it. You still don't understand what changed.  
  
"Vaughn?"  
  
You freeze. Who the hell is that?  
  
"Hey, did you forget…"  
  
She trails off. You stare. She stares.  
  
Rita. Nice, sweet Rita. Nice, sweet Rita from the bureau. Nice, sweet Rita from the bureau is standing in the middle of Michael's living room. Nice, sweet Rita from the bureau is standing in the middle of Michael's living room in his boxers. Nice, sweet Rita from the bureau is standing in the middle of Michael's living room wearing his boxers and the damn L.A. Kings t-shirt he wouldn't even let you wash.  
  
And suddenly, you understand.   
  
--------  
  
TBC  
  
puh-leeeeeeeeeeze let me know what you think


	2. Part 2

Closure Part 2   
  
 Slightly darker than the first part. If you don't like it...go away! j/k all criticism welcome...but encouragement is a whole lot better! hope you like it! remember, it's un-betaed!  
  
----------------  
"Hi."  
  
"Hi."  
  
There's a long, long, long and very awkward pause as neither one of you say anything for a while, fidget and try to find a spot to focus on. Finally, she takes the plunge and clears her throat.  
  
"What are you doing here?"  
  
You stop for a moment, racking your brain for a reasonable excuse for being in your ex-boyfriend's apartment while he's at work without seeming stalker-like.  
  
"Keys…I came to return Michael's keys."  
  
That's a good enough reason right? Completely plausible. Not insane at all.  
  
"Oh…well, he's not here. I can give them to him."  
  
She extends her hand and you find yourself unconsciously tightening your grip on the keys. You came here for closure, to completely physically separate yourself from someone who had been a fixture in your life for years. You were ready for that, for a final goodbye, a wistful look around the apartment you once called a home, a well-timed tear and a stronger sense of who you were.   
  
You never expected to pass on the torch …  
  
You notice that she's looking at you, unsure of how you're going to react and your mind suddenly goes into overdrive. You and Michael have only been apart for two days. Two days! And already he's shacking up with some…some…office slut !?!   
  
Your mind flashes back to when the relationship started to go sour about a year and a half ago. Lack of sleep, even more secrecy than before about his day at work, sudden emergencies and the need to rush out at all hours of the night. He'd told her that he'd been assigned a big case to handle, promoted and that he was given new responsibilities and that he would love to tell you but it was for your own security and protocol forbid him and it was classified information and bla bla bla and yackity yak and wasn't that what broke you up in the first place?   
  
Hah! You wonder how long he had been handling _her_ case.   
  
"Alice?"  
  
You realize you've been completely motionless for the past minute and the whole stalker theory must be looking pretty fitting right about now.  
  
Two scenarios play out in your head. On the one hand, Michael is his own person and you two are no longer together. He made it clear that he doesn't love you anymore and as painful as that is you are a grown woman. A grown woman would calmly pass over the keys, smile, hold her head up high and march out the door, never looking back allowing little miss Rita to feel the full ugly, shame of her immoral behaviour, thus emerging as the bigger person, ready to move on, stronger than ever.  
  
On the other hand, you always liked "Dynasty" and the thought of screaming your head off while pulling out her mousy brown hair by the roots seems like an awfully satisfying image right about now. Your therapist did tell you to start expressing your feelings a lot more.   
  
"Well…goodbye Rita."  
  
You settle for somewhere in between as you fling her the keys and turn around, preparing to make a hasty and thoroughly non-dramatic exit. Your hand is on the knob and just as you turn it you hear her voice.  
  
"Sydney."  
  
The first thing you think of is Australia. But that can't be right. What would be so interesting about Sydney, Australia.   
  
You should leave while you still can but your curiosity gets the better of you and you turn yourself around, fingers still positioned on the knob, shoulders tense.  
  
"My name isn't Rita. It's Sydney…Sydney Bristow."  
  
Your feel your brow furrow in confusion and you stand frozen, waiting expectantly to hear more. And over the feelings of curiousness you're experience, you recognize a more fervent desire, a more desperate emotion to know more. For the first time in a long time, you recognize that someone is telling you the truth. And though you can already feel the sting this confession will bring, you can't help but turn yourself fully around.  
  
You watch and wait, holding your breath and you can see she's having as much difficulty with this as you are. A feeling of smug superiority rises in your throat and you relish it, savour it, because you know that in about a minute, you're going to end up flat on your face, a brand new pain to pile on top of the old one and fresh tears to accompany it.   
  
"The case that Michael and I were working on when we met kept me from telling you my real name…It would have put all of us in danger. But…but the nature of our jobs changed two days ago."  
  
"Obviously…" The tone of your voice is harsh and you barely recognize it. Your mother's calm voice rings in your head and a feeling of guilt overwhelms you suddenly: she didn't raise you to be unkind.  
  
"I'm sorry…" You trail off and you see her nod sadly, open her mouth to speak.  
  
"That's…"  
  
And then you realize that though you weren't very proud of yourself the moment you snapped at this relative stranger…this _Sydney_…this outside force who seems to be the reason for your current unhappiness…you don't regret the move either.  
  
In fact, it felt pretty damn good.  
  
"NO! Actually, you know what, I'm not. I'm not sorry. You lied to me. He lied to me."  
  
You watch her face for any sign of shame, of grief, of acknowledgment. You want her to look down and mutter apologies. You want her to shy away and cry and call Michael to save her from the raving lunatic in front of her. Just like you have a million times before. But she doesn't. She sighs and has the gall to look at you with sympathy…no! with pity in her eyes. And for the first time, you realize you don't like that feeling at all. Like someone who deserves pity.  
  
You slam your purse down on the coffee table next to you and she doesn't even flinch. But for the first time in your life, you don't feel like backing down.  
  
"Has anything he ever told me been true?"  
  
"Alice don't do this…" She begins, her tone patronizing, calming, like she's negotiating with a bank robber.  
  
"Why the hell not!?" You interrupt her and vow to try this whole impolite thing again in the future. "Michael and I…we were perfect. Nothing changed! Nothing. And then all of a sudden…"  
  
You feel like a dam has burst in your head and images come rushing at you. Memories you'd previously dismissed or couldn't understand at the time suddenly fall together piece by piece and you feel like the fool all over again. You swallow your dread and look up, blinking back tears.  
  
"When did you two start working together?"  
  
Finally, her prissy little perfect face with the perfect nose and the pretty eyes and the pouty lips changes and she quickly looks away, crosses her arms across her chest.  
  
Damn, you're starting to feel sorry for her.   
  
No! Remember the enemy! Remember that she broke you guys up! Remember that she made Michael lie to you!   
  
"Sydney…" She doesn't answer and you repeat her name, firmer this time. "Sydney."  
  
You take two steps toward her and place a hand on her arm. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you realize that with the hard muscles tensing under your fingers, she could probably have you flat on your back and halfway to dreamland before you can blink.   
  
But somehow, you know she won't and your fearlessness makes you feel stronger than ever before. Whatever this is, it's the other side of fear. It's big and scary and you kinda want to vomit a little bit but you feel a rush of energy that had been sapped from you long ago. You've never felt better. You've never been more like yourself.  
  
"Please…you started this…for once…tell me the truth. I feel like nothing in my life has been true lately. Please."  
  
You see her features relax, her lip quiver slightly and the pity becomes sympathy. For a moment, you wonder what this impressive woman with the porcelain face and a child's eyes has been through and why you somehow know that she feels your pain.  
  
"It'll be two years in October." She tells you with a gentle tone. "I can't get into details but when we met…I'd just lost someone I loved and found out that…a lot of what I once believed to be true…a lot of what I'd based my life upon was just a big lie."   
  
She shakes her head sadly and you see her defenses crack; her eyes glisten with tears.   
  
"Michael was…Michael was…there." She laughs a little and her features brighten just at the mention of his name. "He never, ever cheated on you! I promise, neither of us would allow that to happen…But eventually…"   
  
She looks at you, unable to continue, her eyebrows coming together in a sad gesture.  
  
"You love him."   
  
It's such a simple statement but there is so much more to it and you know it. You know what it's like to have Michael Vaughn talk to you and make you feel like the only person in the universe. You know what it is to be held in his arms and allow his warmth to be your lifeline. You know what it's like to give him your problems and let his hands heal you. You know what it's like to love him and how easy it is for him to become your world.  
  
The only difference is that she has his heart…the one thing you never possessed.  
  
You squeeze her elbows and she smiles at you, both forgetting who's been comforting whom.  
  
With a watery smile, you pick up your purse and turn back to the door.  
  
You pause for a moment and square your shoulders before facing her one more time.  
  
"He's not perfect." You smile widely, proud for finally having realized that. "I know he makes it hard to remember sometimes but he's not…"  
  
She laughs with you and you feel that connection with her you did back at the hospital and then again at the bar. You'll never be friends, you'll probably never see her again and you have no problem with that. But somehow, you'll always be tied together.  
  
"Take care of yourself Alice." She smiles kindly and you open the door. Just as you step out, you hear her voice travel out to your ears again.  
  
"I know this is an old cliché but, the truth hurts. But believe me, it makes everything a lot easier. Take what I told you and make it your own."  
  
You smile, genuinely and walk down the hall, not any happier but suddenly feeling like a weight had been lifted off your chest, something even hours of crying hadn't been able to do. With a lightness you don't recognize, you step into the elevator and watch as the doors slide shut one final time.   
  
FIN


End file.
